#also paps is still not easy for me to draw ==;;

[hansama]

I tried to sketch Papyrus in both my art style and @skull-otaku xD

#undertale #papyrus #undertale papyrus #i was going to do a warm-up sketch #i remembered the papyrus tutorial skull-otaku made #so i did paps in both our styles xDDD #this was very spontaneous LOL #anyway the truth is i'm not sure if this really IS my style of drawing paps ASKDLHGLKDHG #I DON'T HAVE ONE?? X'DDD #but at least this is how i draw the head! i think!!!! x'DDDDD #also paps is still not easy for me to draw ==;; #he problem isn't with the head i think but rather with the body??? #Also the mouth sometimes ASDGDJ #idk idk xDDDD #have a drawing of two papses!!! #they're cute! #i don't think i did Skull-otaku's art style justice but i tried my best x'DDD #their whole artstyle is nice i like their sans as well #also this made me realize how wide I draw pap's head in comparison to other artstyles x'DDDD #their paps head is very long/vertical/thin?? XDDDDD #it's really cute

[anothersebastianblog]

I share opinions of people that completely different to mines id say daily probably (about his rs, his friends etc)./// Okay… Then please explain how you see a loving couple on all of those pap walks. Because I see a man who is so over all this shit that he literally can’t smile with his eyes anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think this is a contract, as in actual papers were involved. But I do believe what DM and Enty said about this being a set up with some pretty strict boundaries and how they don’t even consider themselves GF/BF to other people. I think he enjoyed his time with her to being with but he is Seb and his relationship last maybe about 18 months to 2 years and then he gets bored and moves on. He looks like he getting a little bored. They badly interacted at the wedding, yes he was there, we know, but in multiple videos and pictures from multiple people all throughout the night, they hardly even acknowledge each other. She had his jacket for like 2.5 seconds and then put it on the back of her chair. But other than that they were like a couple who had been in a fight and were putting on a pleasant face for the crowd.

I don’t see lovey couple from them. I see friends who are traveling together and just enjoy not being alone. What goes on behind closed doors… who knows. But he sure as hell doesn’t act like he did with previous GF’s and yes people change but not that much. Your love language doesn’t just change and Seb’s is definitely physical touch (you can tell by how he acts with past GF’s, friends, family, and fans.)

I’m saying all this with the utmost respect for you and your blog and just trying to get someone else spin on this situation. Cause how I see it is not ✨endless love✨ it’s more ✨2 years and onto the next✨

And I’m not a hater btw, I just don’t think they have good chemistry. ✌🏻❤️

Ok so i am trying to reply in the most complete way i can but i am sure other anons will be able to add their interesting thoughts/points to mines.

The most important thing that is important to not forget about is we absolutely don’t know them (vali for both sides) and that we see just 2% of their lives. This is why I can’t understand why you draw so many conclusions in that ask with statements that seem the one and only truth.

On our side we act following the easiest path: two people are seeing together, kissing each others, walking hand in hand, hang out with each other’s families because they are together, as a couple.

Important: none of us ever said they are gonna last or that they have been the most important person for the other in their love life. I feel like some people pretend to think we said that to make us look stupid or something. We very well know seb’s love life history, this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t think these two are dating.

If i was you i would NEVER believe DM and Enty, every time I heard that from someone i go 😳. They have gossip pages just like this one with the difference that at least we concentrate our energy on ONE person and take time to analyse details, while they chose to speak about EVERY celebs, taking infos from non verified sources AND fans. They don’t directly follow the celeb in question they just report the infos sent. Sebastian is not Kim K, if he is getting married you will firstly know about it and DM will know it after you from some fans. Not from a PA or an insider. This is valid for every infos about him. And remember Enty is also 4738292 time worse than DM. (If you believe what they said about seb and annabelle i have to think you also believe the drug addiction rumours….)

He doesn’t smile in “all of those” pap walks (3…)? He is a normal person, i myself don’t smile 24/7. Especially if the pap walk wasn’t planned or if he agreed on it but still didn’t like doing it. You said he doesn’t act like with previous gf… too easy saying it that NOW because the others are GONE. People said that about ale as well (remember the ibiza pap walk?) and yet he seemed VERY happy in her bday video. So we should fall in the conspiracy theories hole and think he was acting in that video? So PR? Just wondering.

About the wedding… this is the part that surprised me the most: with the most respect, i feel like people who genuinely think what you wrote is the truth just can’t accept facts. We saw 3 videos of them, 4 seconds each. That’s not nearly enough to say they didn’t interact! And btw we didn’t even have a situation in which you would expect pda/interactions they way you wanted to see: they didn’t need to acknowledge each others because they already know the other one was there, they know each other and have been in a rs for 1.5 years.. they are 40 not 16.

The jacket thing…. Pls. You saw two pics and still decided to form a complete thought and narrative about it. You don’t know how many seconds she wore it and it is absolutely not an important detail that proves something (for both sides btw) but still funny that is being used as a proof.

Idk what to tell you but some people (Not necessarily you) like to think this way because it’s the easiest option if they want him single (and unhappy apparently).

The easiest option is the correct one most of the times, imo. And if he is that unhappy he should leave her, or else that worst bf ever badge is there ready for him.

Maybe you will find this too harsh (not my intention) but I honestly am a bit tired (not about you specifically, thanks for sending your opinion) when i see that people WANT to believe in something and in order to do that they make up stuff and draw conclusions from absolutely nothing.

[everywhereallthetime]

“AS ABOVE SO BELOW” by VIP Skylark Album Dissection

8.4/10

I first was introduced to VIP when grabbing some soda from an exotic pop shop in LES. I hadn’t heard any music by Mr. Skylark but my first impression of him was that he was a humble and enthusiastic young artist. I come across alot of creatives and it’s pretty easy to read people based off how they react to me telling them I run a platform where I interview artists. Clout chasers, phonies, and wannabes alike stick out like a sore thumb after I drop the “I have a music podcast” card. VIP was different. I could tell he was special 30 seconds after shaking his hand. Shortly after meeting VIP I briefly met A$AP Illz, VIP’s manager and cofounder of the world renowned A$AP Mob. It was so bizarre meeting someone of that calibre in the music industry so casually. It felt unreal in the moment and i’m still not sure if it really happened or I was just super high.

The first track I got to listen to from VIP was “EXIT WOUNDS” Featuring RX Papi. It was a shocking and pleasant introduction hearing VIP and Pap rip into this flutey beat like 7.62 through a car door.

One of my favorite things about VIP and his music is that there’s so much more behind the gritty rap lyrics. Starting with the Title of his project “As Above so Below” also known as “The Principle of Correspondence” is originally a phrase that stems from 9th century Arabic texts and is often found in later medieval latin philosophy and all throughout history. It has several interpretations but English-Grammar-lessons.com says

“You can use the phrase, “as above, so below,” when you’re referring to unexplainable events in your life or the feeling of karma. The phrase links the astral planes to the physical realm, referring that what happens in the heavens will also play out on earth. The phrase suits social and professional settings, and most people in all generations will understand the meaning of the phrase.”

This is no accident. Behind the grimey trap instrumentals VIP sprinkles references to great philosophers and scientists like Niccolò Machiavelli who is referenced several times throughout the project. There’s no shortage of ancient latin phrases either. VIP is undoubtedly a modern day renaissance man who lives a fast and unconventional life. This is a story he tells throughout his project whether describing switching lanes in a hellcat or going over the plugs head and finding his supplier.

One of VIPs greatest strengths on these tracks is his ability to rap on crazy and unconventional beats. The production is versatile throughout the project but draws heavy inspiration from psychedelic trap as well as sample drill. One of my favorite examples of this is on “Mr. Walk It Dont Talk It” which sounds like an audible manifestation of VIP battling a black hole that is growing bigger and VIP is using his lyrics to try to seal it shut. You hear as the echo of the black hole intensifies so does VIP’s cadence which speeds up to a pace where he’s able to seal the black hole shut. Another great example is “Fight or Flight” Ft. Kushcloudzpookie. VIP and Kush slide on this beautifully atmospheric beat that I describe as a the echo inside a magical cave full of crystallized stalagmites.

There’s no shortage of collaborations on this project either. Rx Papi appears a whopping four times on some of the best tracks on the project like “Fuck Suge”, “Paranoid Moving”, and “Steppers” which also features Lotus Love. Sample drill legend Shawny Binladen appears on “Dub City”. Juggrxch appears on “Dub World War” one of my favorite tracks on the project.

Behind the tough and confident exterior that VIP puts off there’s are demons that follow in his shadow. VIP isn’t shy about this, he mentions losing his brother to cancer and self medicating his deep sadness with drugs. This is one of the many sad but real consequences of the lifestyle that VIP lives and as sad as it is VIP talks about it as he pleases. This darker side of VIP’s conscience is hidden behind a upbeat drums and flow that is overshadowed by subtlety haunting melodies that can be as seductive as they are evil.

“As above So Below” is really one of Vip Skylark’s first classics. With Vip’s talent and the mentorship of A$AP Illz he is sure to go far.

I recommend listening to this album on a cold summer night in the car with a blunt and possibly a cheeky doublecup of wock.

#rap #a$ap mob #nycmusicscene #hip hop rap #undergroundhiphop #Spotify

[lets-donate-a-kidney]

What kind of tests do you have to go through to donate a kidney?

There are a lot! The transplant center really wants to make sure you’re healthy and won’t be harmed by the surgery. Here’s what I went through:

Pre-screening - See previous post

Blood draw

Urine sample

In-depth screening

Blood draw (again)

CT scan of my torso

X-ray of my torso

EKG of my heart

Psychological evaluation

Dietary evaluation

Physical exam from the nephrologist

24-hour urine sample (I had to collect this and bring it in!)

Pap test

If you have a cervix, you’ll have to either get a pap test, send in the result of a recent pap test, or send in a note from an OBGYN supporting your request to donate.

This was actually the hardest part for me. My body did not like the speculum! Fortunately, by OBGYN’s letter of support was enough to get me cleared to donate. Most people with cervices will not have the same difficulty or pain I did.

DNA and antibody collection - See previous post

Received cheek swab kit in the mail for collecting DNA/antibody sample. Dropped it off at FedEx.

This was the first time I’d had a CT scan or EKG, so those felt a bit wild. The CT scan machine was very loud and I had to lay still as the bed moved in and out of it. It also felt a bit awkward wearing a hospital gown and letting the EKG person put sensors on my chest. (“Sorry, we get real up close and personal here.” “No worries.”)

The psychological evaluation with the social worker was easy. Their job is to help you manage your expectations, understand the risks, and know what you’re getting into. They want to make sure you’re not being pressured by anyone to donate, that you aren’t being paid for your kidney, and that they can’t reveal the recipient’s identity or contact information to you. Since I didn’t want contact with the recipient anyway, that was no problem.

The dietary evaluation is important because you’re a little more vulnerable with only one kidney compared to two. A good diet helps keep that kidney healthy. I’m vegetarian, so the dietitian gave extra attention to my iron and B12 levels. She and the nephrologist later suggested I take an iron supplement just to be safe, though they don’t have serious concerns.

I also met with the transplant surgeon himself. He’s also the urologist on the team. Cool guy, said that kidney donations were his favorite part of his job. ("Much more rewarding than prescribing Viagra.”)

None of these experiences were scary, but I can see how they might be intimidating or stressful if you don’t know what to expect. If you want to donate a kidney, you just have to let the doctors invade your space a bit. But all of them were very nice, helpful and professional! I felt confident that these people knew their shit.

#kidney donation #organ donor #kidney #living donor #kidney transplant #organize later

[yerdad]

How do you papyrus?

Please, teach me your ways.

Help your fellow papyrus lover.

How to draw Papyrus and his big fat stupid head! (The incredibly lazy tutorial!)

1. Okay so studying the structure of an actual human skull is going to be useful here. Papyrus is not easy to draw, so using a real skull as a reference will help greatly!

2. Also listen, I'm still figuring stuff out myself, like, i only have experience drawing US! Paps, and trust me, there are differences between UT, US, and UF (especially UF) and only recently do i feel i have a grasp of his impeccable bone structure. So take everything i say with a grain of salt (I'm not a professional, yknow?)

So.

(Start with a circle!)

Circles are yer best friend, but the softness and roundness of their cheekbones, jawbones, etc, depends on the type of Papyrus yer drawing! Remember, it's okay to take creative liberties! (Meaning, not all Papyri have to look the same!)

3. Okay, his mouth is definitely the hardest thing so i will explain it on its own (to the best of my ability)

(Also yes i wrote everything out on paper but my handwriting is basically cursive so it's easier for everyone if i just type it out)

(However, think of this as his lip. Another rectangle below the first will act as his teeth!

Now, his jaw. Just draw a very chiseled jaw. Edges are sharper, curves are curvier, yknow how it goes. The size of his jaw is about the width of his cheekbones, so don't make it too wide, unless yer into that sorta thing.)

((Also his nose is just an upside down triangle lol)

4. Okay so yeah skeletons don't have eyelids, I know, but creative liberties, people! His eyes are pretty simple.

Think of them (his eyelids) as curved uppercase L's.

Then, add an eyelight! I usually make them rectangles, but of course you don't have to do that :)

So yeah! That's Papyrus! (Kinda!!)

I hope this tutorial(?) helped you in some way, i would've loved to do the drawings digitally but that proved difficult so my bad about that <:)

#drawing #underswap #undertale #underfell #papyrus #yerdad teaches you stuff #hope this helped! #tutorial

[spunky-89]

Sorrows, Storms, and... Silverware?

A/N: Here is the next part of the Domestic(ish) Life series. This one is a little sad like some of my more recent works because what I write reflects my mood and this was written when I was in a really rough spot and wished I had my boys to comfort me. It's not great, I feel like it's all over the place, but I hope maybe others who have felt this way might find a bit of comfort from it...

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mental health, depression, bad brain day

WC:1688

Days were passing by faster than you could count. You and your boys had been living in relative bliss. There were some paps that got too nosy occasionally but other than that you were mostly left alone when you went out. Not that you went out all that often, the three of you could usually be found curled up on the couch together playing games or just existing together, you would be on your laptop doing work things, Steve would either be reading or drawing, and Bucky fluctuated between being on his phone, laptop, or reading. Even though it’d been almost two years since he was rescued, he was still very behind on pop culture, science, and obviously the massive advancements in technology.

You were having a rough day. It was one of those days where you each just existed in the same space. There wasn’t much talking to be heard, just the sounds of breathing and your keyboard clacking. The only issue was your focus was waning and your mind was muddled. This happened to you every now and then, but you were always able to get past the funk in a day or two. However, this had been going on for over a week and you were getting frustrated, which wasn’t helping your situation. Luckily, both boys had been busy and kind of oblivious to your struggle. You loved them but knew they would baby you if they found out you were struggling with your mental health. Despite being together for so long, neither of the boys knew how bad your mental health could get. But you had also never gone into a bad depressive state while they were around and you didn’t really like talking about it either. The last time you got like this was after Steve moved to DC.

You’d had really bad depression and anxiety when you were younger but between seeing a therapist and having some medication to help, you had all but overcome both. Sure you still got overly anxious faster than other people might, but it wasn’t too bad. And your depression was pretty easy to manage as long as you took your pills and didn’t dwell on the little stuff. But every now and then you’d have a flare-up where the depression just got a little worse and you had to fight your way through it for up to 2 weeks. Usually, it was only a few days though. When it occurred, your head would get foggy, you’d be exhausted all day no matter how much caffeine you consumed, you’d be unmotivated, and highly sensitive. Also very emotional. Not just sad emotional, like every emotion is multiplied by a thousand, including anger. This was to be your downfall.

After staring at the same blinking line for 10 minutes with no progress you huffed and slammed your laptop shut. This startled both boys who looked to you in confusion. You ignored their looks, got up from your place on the couch, and grabbed your phone before heading into your bedroom.

The two boys shared a look of concern before placing down their respective items and following you into the bedroom. They found you laying in bed on your back engrossed in something on your phone.

“You okay there doll?” Bucky asked, almost able to feel the frustration coming off you in waves.

“I’m fine, just need 10 minutes.” You said, your tone clipped.

This made the two men all the more suspicious. You never took that tone with them unless you were mad, which was almost never. Steve went to say something but before he could, Bucky was pushing him out of the room.

“She needs space, I don’t know about you but she seemed ready to snap and I don’t particularly want to be on the receiving end of that.” He explained once the two men settled back down on the couch.

This was just the first incident. Over the next few days, the boys started to notice your odd behavior. They were concerned but every time they brought it up you said you were fine and changed the conversation. They felt helpless and lost.

A new day began at 6 am with a crack of thunder and flash of lightning in the bedroom. The two boys had already been awake, as per usual, but you shot up with a start.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s just a storm,” Bucky murmured as he brought you closer to his chest. It took a short while but eventually, you fell back asleep. Steve scooted closer to you as well. He knew you had Astraphobia and sought physical contact as a form of comfort during storms. As awful as it sounded, the boys loved stormy days because you became very affectionate and clingy.

As the day went on, the boys were happy to keep you close and give you all their love and affection. However, they noticed something. You weren’t as clingy as usual and you just didn’t seem right to them. If anything, you seemed very… sad.

And you were. You were just having one of those days where you wanted to do nothing but stay curled in a ball under the blankets and cry about everything. Every little mishap or inconvenience was bringing you to the edge of a breakdown. And you knew that all the negative thoughts in your head were wrong and just a product of your mental illness, but sometimes you just weren't strong enough to shut the thoughts out.

You were wrapped up in blankets in bed just scrolling aimlessly on your phone when Steve popped his head into the bedroom.

"I'm heading out to grab some dinner, anything you want me to pick up while I'm out?" He asked. You just blinked at him for a minute before pursing your lips and looking away to try and avoid crying because your brain was giving you shit. You cleared your throat and tried to slap a haphazard 'I'm okay' face on.

"No, I think I'm good." You said, keeping your voice even as best you could. Unfortunately, he knew you too well to be deceived. His eyebrows furrowed as he approached the bed.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" He asked, voice soft answer laced with concern.

“Nothing?” You answered though it was framed as a question as you didn’t even know yourself.

“I would believe you if you weren’t crying,”

You sniffled and when Steve sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his arms, you lost it. Sobs tore from your throat as you clung to him. He pulled you tighter to him as he adjusted so you could sit comfortably in his lap. Not a moment later Bucky came flying in having heard you sobbing. He quickly joined Steve on the bed and put his arm around you as well.

You kept trying to talk to the two men to express your feelings but you couldn’t get a full sentence out, nor were you making any sense. The boys kept sharing panicked looks over your head. They had no idea what was going on or why you were crying. They felt helpless, and that’s a feeling neither enjoyed. Over the course of the hour, you had calmed enough to actually start talking without crying again. But you felt so drained, you didn’t even feel like talking. But you knew you needed to tell them something.

“You doing okay there sweetheart?” Bucky inquired after a few minutes of silence.

“Not really,” You mumbled.

“You wanna tell us what’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“Honestly, nothing really. Just…” You were struggling to come up with the words to explain your feelings. “Okay, let me do it this way, and it’s gonna sound weird but just go with it alright.” When the boys stayed silent you took a breath as you tried to remember how to phrase things properly.

“So you know the spoon thing I always talk about? Well, there’s another similar thing called the fork… theory? I think… Anyways it’s about how well you can keep it together so to speak. So basically, it’s a way to explain tolerance. Everyone can only handle being stabbed in the hand with so many forks at once. And the size can vary as can the amount. So like on a normal day, let’s say I can take 10 forks of regular size. So those are all the inconveniences like being late to work, burning dinner, or dealing with annoying people. But sometimes there’s bigger forks that consume 2 or 3 regular sized forks. So it varies you know. But lately not only have I been low on spoons, my fork count has been extremely low too. So every little thing feels catastrophic and it doesn’t take much to cause me to break down.”

The two men took a moment as they absorbed what you were saying.

“Was there something that caused you to be so low on both?” Steve asked.

“Uh, no, I don’t- I don’t think so.”

“You don’t sound very sure,” Bucky remarked.

“Well it’s hard you know, sometimes I just get like this.”

“What do you mean? I’ve never seen you like this before?” Steve asked, sounding confused.

“Just because you haven’t seen me like this doesn’t necessarily mean I haven’t had bad periods.” You mumbled.

“Wha-” Steve cut himself off as he digested this new information. “Why did you never say anything if you were this bad?” He asked.

You just shrugged, not really wanting to go into your issues of self-doubt.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Bucky asked gently, sensing your discomfort about the line of questions Steve was asking.

“Nothing really, I have an appointment with my therapist on Thursday, hopefully, she’ll be able to help me unpack all my blehg and maybe see what caused it.” You provided, hoping to help quell some of their concerns.

“Right, well, in the meantime, when and if you need anything, and I do mean anything you can come to us okay?” Bucky proposed.

You nodded and snuggled deeper into your supersoldiers.

#Domestic(ish) Life #steve x reader x bucky #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #captain america x reader #winter solider x reader #angst #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader

[harryhandstan]

prompt: harry wakes up early on starbucks cup release days and surprises you by buying all the ones he thinks you’ll like. he’s usually able to escape the paps but this time they catch him and he ends up having to explain it in his next interview and gets all shy and can’t stop blushing.

a/n: hello all!! first I want to apologize for my 4 month long writing absence. life just has not been kind to me lately and unfortunately zapped a lot of my creativity energy, but I’m happy to have something done now! hopefully I can continue and keep a more consistent schedule for the remainder of this year!

immense thank you’s are owed to my kind friends @tobesolonely and @meetmymouth for the encouragement to find my creative spark for writing again and for being amazing betas! and to @taintedwonder for the lovely idea! @theharriediaries​ was so sweet to beta for me as well!!

word count: 2.1k

writing tag | masterlist | tiktok inspo 

Harry was usually smarter than this. He had a schedule, a plan, a way to get in and out pretty quickly without being seen. 

But today, he’d lingered too long at the mugs, curious if you’d want one of those as well. Your go-to was iced coffee, even year round in the winter you would prefer something cold over anything warm. He was thinking though, of the nights you were stressed and wanted a cup of soothing tea before bed, or those slower mornings where you don’t have to rush and a mug of coffee fits nicely in your hand while he admires you from across the kitchen table.

By the time he’s decided that yes, you do need this mug with the pastel rainbow print to add to your collection, along with a few of the other cups he thinks you’ll adore and a fresh bag of your favorite flavor of coffee, there’s already a small crowd of people forming in the lobby of the coffee shop and he hopes that he can get through them without being recognized as usual; prays that it’s only the regulars filing in for an early morning fix of caffeine before they rush off to start their day.

The barista thankfully is quick, skillfully giving him his total before rushing off to make the drinks he ordered for the two of you as well. He sees the way her eyes keep darting to him though, knows after years of experience that she knows who he is and is trying to work up the courage to say something to him or ask for a photo. He almost considers offering, she’s been so nice not to draw any attention to him, maybe something discreet could be pulled off. 

In the end he chooses not to, not wanting to assume that’s why she keeps looking over at him. It could be that he still has the hood of his sweatshirt tucked over his beanie or the fact that he’s now walking out of the shop with a small handful of the brown shopping bags with the familiar green logo imprinted on the front.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it back to his car without anyone stopping him. He’s so distracted by securing the bags in the backseat he fails to hear the small clicks of the camera not too far away.

There’s a small comfort in the quietness of your shared apartment when he returns. While he loves coming home to the sound of you dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, his favorite is getting to wake you up himself. There’s a sweet softness in the way the side of your face rests against your pillow, mouth parted slightly and a gentle snore vibrating through your chest. It never fails to make him smile. He cherished the way you inhale faintly, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times, adjusting to the new day you’re waking up to. If he was there, already awake, your eyes always found him before anything else.

This morning is no different, except for the confusion on your face when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed instead of snuggled next to you. 

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”  You’re propped up enough now to accept the coffee he’s holding out for you. You take a few small sips, sighing and letting your head fall back against the headboard as you savor the taste.

“M’that easy to read, huh?” He chuckles, his hand on your thigh now, warming your skin even through the blanket, “Well..would you like your surprise here or will you be joining me in the kitchen while I make you breakfast?”

“Oh I get a surprise and breakfast today? What’s the occasion? Little early for my birthday, H.” 

“Don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, do I?”

“I guess not.” 

You shrug, trying not to let the guilt bubble up enough to where it flashes across your face. One of his loudest love languages had always been gift giving, a quality about him you thought was wonderful, but still had a hard time accepting. You had to be careful about mentioning things you may want around Harry, he would use any excuse to treat you.

He’s rambling off his reasoning already as he leads you into the kitchen and settles you in one of the tall chairs next to the counter. He always ends his explanation with “I know you told me not to, but…” followed up by what you’re sure to him sounds like a very logical justification for why you need/deserve whatever he was gifting you. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of your regular kitchen set up this morning though, so you do what you normally do when he announces a surprise for you; let him take the lead, not wanting to take away from his excitement. 

“So..surprise or breakfast first?” He stands on the other side of the counter now, his hoodie and beanie discarded, wearing a t-shirt you were sure you bought for yourself but he seems to have laid claim to.

“Breakfast, please. If you don’t mind.” 

“‘Course not. Any requests, baby?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, just as it does each time he uses that particular term of affection for you. He’s already opened the refrigerator, scanning over options for what he could make for the two of you. You recover long enough to tell him no, that whatever he wants to make would be fine, sitting back and enjoying the view as he cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

You don’t even notice that you’re staring until he turns and catches your eye, “What? Did I get a shell in the eggs or something?”

You giggle as he even picks up the clear bowl of eggs that he’s already scrambled and seasoned, even going so far as to swirl his finger through the liquid to double check before you can stop him.

“No, it’s just..I can’t get over the fact that you’re making breakfast for me while wearing my t-shirt.”

“S’it yours?” He glances down at it, “Thought it was mine, sorry..”

There’s a smirk on his face as he turns back to the stove, and you know just by seeing that he knows you don’t mind; you love seeing him in your clothes as much as he adores seeing you in his.  

It’s not long before he’s presenting you with a plate, sitting next to you with his own plate in front of him. When you don’t immediately dig in, he leans over to inspect the food, worried that maybe he’d overdone the eggs or your toast was slightly more brown than you liked. 

So when you say, “You’ve forgotten something very important, haven’t you?” he panics, thinking maybe he should’ve taken the time to include fruit to balance the meal. You take pity on him, not making him wait too long before you lean in and he instantly softens, realizing what you’re asking for. 

He meets you the rest of the way, lips soft against yours, the taste of the coffee you’ve both had lingering for a moment before he pulls away, “Very important. How could I ever have forgotten?”

When you’ve both finished eating, he downs the last of his coffee and stacks your now empty plates to take to the sink, pecking your forehead with another quick kiss, “Alright, close your eyes. Count to 20.”

You begin to count off in your head, and you hear his voice, a bit further away, “Out loud, angel.”

There’s a rustling of bags getting closer as you count, and you can even hear a few clinks as they come closer. You can feel him moving around you, positioning things perfectly for when you open your eyes. 

He’s still behind you when you finish counting, hands squeezing your shoulders to urge you to open your eyes. When you do, you immediately recognize the bags and know exactly what he’s done.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. This is too much, Harry. I let you spoil me with little things here and there, but I cannot accept this.”

Sitting in front of you are..you stop to count them now; 1, 2, 3, 4..6 bags from Starbucks. You know from experience that each one of them contains 2 cups or mugs. You’re sure at least one of them also includes your favorite roast of coffee. He had done this before around Christmas time, when you’d mentioned how adorable a few of the ones from the holiday collection had been, not thinking that he would go back later without you and buy all the ones you’d touched or admired.  

He ignores your refusal, “You can take back any you don’t like. Go on,” He peeks inside one of the bags closest to him and then pushes it closer to you, “Start with this one.”

“Harry, really..”

“Don’t think, just open. If you really won’t accept any of them then I’ll take ‘em back and buy you something from somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You try your best to look serious, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, “Thank you, H.”

You finally go through most of the bags, offering oohs and ahhs and even a few squeals of joy at certain ones. 

“I think I got all the ones you’d pick for yourself. Saw you eyeing one or two the other day and the others I just guessed.”

He had done very well in choosing for you, even going so far as to get the two of you a matching pair of the kind that changed colors with the temperature. 

“For our smoothies.” He explains when you give him a particularly soft look at the idea of matching with him. 

“Also got us a matching set of these,” He skips to the last bag, too eager to wait for you to open it yourself, revealing the mug he’d taken the extra time to select, “For our Sunday morning tea. Or if you change your mind and ever want a hot coffee.”

All you can do is repeat the same expression of gratitude as before you had opened them, “Thank you again, H. I love them all, really. No more though, alright? We’re running out of cabinet space. Did you go to our regular spot or a different one so you wouldn’t be recognized?” 

“Different one. Can’t believe I wasn’t spotted though. Must’ve been too early for the paps to be out and about.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as interesting as you think you are, babe. Harry Styles coming out of a Starbucks is old news now.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, “Oh is it now?”

“Mhmm. You’re just plain boring now, H.” You shrug, peeling at the price tag on the bottom of one of the cups, avoiding his gaze; knowing if you look at him you’ll break into a fit of laughter. 

He’s impossibly calm, just like he is before any interview he does. 

You sit across the room from where he’s currently getting his hair done. The stylist was nervous, understandably so, her hands unsure at first. It only takes a few moments of being near Harry; working his quiet, delicate magic of putting anyone he’s near at ease. By the time his hair is finished he’s pulled a few laughs from her and she leaves the room with a big beaming smile and a wave to the both of you.

Now that you’re alone again, he beckons you closer and tugs you down to sit in his lap, despite your protests of the possibility of wrinkling his incredibly expensive suit. 

“Don’t care,” He leans up to press a kiss to your neck, keeping his face tucked there in your warmth, “Just want you close for a moment.”

Normally you would run your fingers through his hair, but you don’t dare do that now, hand drifting to the side of his face instead, “Not nervous are you, H?”

He lets you gently push him back enough to see his face again, “Never. Just happy to have you here with me, that’s all.”   

It’s not until he’s in front of the audience, presented with the evidence of just a few days before, displayed on a screen for all to see. He had been caught, despite his confidence of getting away. He falters for only a beat, head down in hopes to hide the blush spreading high along his cheeks. He finds you in the crowd, sending a bright smile your way before he shrugs, turning his attention back to the host.

“What can I say? My sunshine likes her coffee.” 

//

tag list: @harrysblackcoat​, @summertime-pills​ 

thank you for reading!! as always likes, rbs, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

#harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #my writing

[eyoricka]

Secret dating - Pete Davidson x singer!reader

First thing, I am sorry for my rather long absence I was moving to another country and way to stress. But now I have to spend ten days in quarantine so I will try to catch up and write all the asks I received in the meantime. So sorry for the delay and I hope the waiting will worth it!!

Also this is the first part of a small series about Pete x singer!reader because I had few asks on this theme! Hope you will enjoy

 Words: 1600+

Warning: none I guess

You had been dating Pete for few months. You decided to keep it low profile. It wasn’t really a secret; your friends and families were aware that you were together but you didn’t want the whole world to know. You had seen Pete’s debacle with his exes, and he witnessed yours. You both agreed to not to make it public this soon since you wanted to avoid paps, gossips articles, harassment online and to hear everybody’s opinion. You were surprised that no one caught the two of you or speculated on your relationship. Maybe the both of you being friends for years, evolving within the same circle of people helped you. When people saw the two of you strolling, getting ice cream together, no magazines titled about how cute this date was but rather on how good it was for you to have such good friends in your life.

These past couple of weeks, it had been hard to spend some quality time with Pete. You had to flew to LA to assist to the Grammys and you missed your boyfriend so much through out the ceremony. You wished that you could have hold his hands during the stressful waiting, kissed him when you heard your name, thanked him when you gave your acceptance speech or feel his hand drawing absurd figure in your back to relax you while you were waiting to perform. Then after going back to New York, you hadn’t had that much time. Your publicist had packed you with interviews and gigs during late night shows. It was tiring but worth it. Your career was on a clear path to success. You were finally considered as not another pop star but one of the biggest artists out there. Pete was so supportive of you. You lived for his lovely text messages to give you strength before each performance or his compliments on how beautiful you looked on TV, how smart your answers were, how funny you were during an interview game.

You had eventually managed to find an afternoon just for you and Pete. You enjoyed a home-cooked meal at his place and could help but melt every time he was laughing while recounting his week. You simply spend the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons. It was your way to decompress together. Pete would always prepare some snacks while you set everything up. Then you would lose at least ten minutes to choose which cartoons or movies to watch. You usually had long debate on whether SpongeBob was better than Scooby-doo. Pete would always take you in his arms while you were watching, peppering your neck with kisses and smelling your hair. He liked the smell of your shampoo arguing that it reminded him of happiness. That was so cliché and yet so adorable, you couldn’t make fun of this cheesiness.

You were slowly falling asleep engulfed by Pete’s warmth, this was cozy, it felt like home. Suddenly, you heard your phone buzzed and sighed. It was your agent, asking you where you were to pick you up to go an interview. You texted her your address while you looked for something to put on for the TV. You liked very much the clothes you had on but you doubted that their shades would be nice on camera. As you were researching the perfect outfit in underwear, trying on several combo, you congratulated yourself for letting some clothes at your boyfriend’s place. You were hesitating between two tops and asked Pete’s opinion. After a quick joke on how good you looked in underwear and that you probably should go like this, he made up his mind for the baby blue top.

You rushed outside to be picked by your team but not before sharing a sweet but passionate kiss with Pete and agreeing to spend the night at your place after the show. Your team smiled at you knowingly as you entered the car but they didn’t make any comment on your relationship. You discussed the show, the possible questions and what the best answers would be… The ride was pretty quiet after that and you soon arrived at the building where the show was taped. You were warmly welcomed by the host. You had already done some interviews with him, he was easy to talk to, always made you comfortable and was rather fun to be around. He lead you to the make-up artist trailer who didn’t fail to notice your tired look but promised you that it was nothing than a bit of foundation and powder could hide. Indeed, after only 15 minutes there you were glowing, looking fresh, like a fairytale princess leaving her bed.

As you were waiting to be called on stage, you received a message from Pete telling you that he was excited to see you on the show, that no matter what you were the best and that he was eager to see you tonight to finish the nap you had started together. You quickly replied before entering the stage. The interview went rather smoothly. You had begun with questions about your last album and upcoming project teasing a possible collab with Taylor Swift. The crowd went wild at this info and you knew that you would certainly end up in top tweets. After a commercial, you played a game with the host where you had to sing a random song imitating another artist. Clearly, it was not your forte, but you were funny enough to make it a good moment to watch. Then, you proceeded to answers some more interrogations from the public that could be found on social media. Those questions were a lot more personal and globally more focused on your art, compositions, writing skills, inspiration. You were passionate, your eyes were big with enthusiasm and you did a lot of gesture with your hand with made the host smile.

You were so happy that when a question about your dating life came up, you didn’t think twice before saying “Well I am the luckiest person, I have my dream career and dating Pete Davidson is just the cherry on the top, you know. He is just so perfect for me, like me understand and support each other, it just so great when you can share all those moments with someone you love and trust.” As you finished your rant, you noticed how the host was staggered. You finally realized what you had revealed and blushed furiously. “Did you just announce publicly that you are dating SNL cast member Pete Davidson?”. It was like words were dying in your throat and you envisioned Pete’s reaction at this. Surely it was not how you had planned to go public. You nodded shyly and the show stopped there. The host thanks the audience who was visibly thrilled, and you made your way backstage. You compulsively checked your phone every five seconds waiting for a text from your now very public boyfriend. But none came and it was worse. You felt so bad, you never wanted to put him in such a position, you were not sure that he was ready to go public, face the world’s reaction but here you were because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Your team drove you back to your place assuring you that it was okay, he couldn’t be mad at you for this but actually he legitimately could. They insist that you should check your social media, people were very supportive of you, saying that you were so cute together, goals… however you didn’t think that it was a good idea right now, you head spinning with the prospect to face Pete.

You silently entered your house waiting for Pete to arrive, a huge lump in your stomach. You felt so guilty, obviously you had to ruin everything, didn’t you. You were in your kitchen drinking a hot cocoa to calm your nerve when you heard Pete unlocked your front door with his spare keys. You didn’t dare to approach him and let him come in the room, your hands shaking so bad that you had spilled some hot beverage on it. You didn’t really feel the burning sensation, you were too scared of what he would say. To make it even more torturing he remained silent as he glanced at you. he eventually approached you and put away your cup as he took your injured hand in his. He put it under cold water and you let him do it, not understanding what was happening. “Do you think that I hate you or that I am angry at you for making it public without talking about it first?” he stated more than questioned as he stood behind you with his hand on yours. “Yes” you sighed looking down. He made you turned to face him and since you were still not looking at him, he put gently his hand on your face and lift it up. His face was so calm and soft, not what you were expecting at all. “I don’t mind, I mean sure it would have been better to discuss it and find a way together to announce it but you didn’t did on purpose. You were just so excited and you didn’t really think of it so I can’t blame you. I certainly would have done the same. Also, how I can be mad at someone who is so cute and so adorable when talking about me. You know what you say about us, it means a lot to me, a lot more than you can imagine. I love you, okay, and I don’t care if the whole world knows as long as you know it.” He smiled down at you and brushed away some tears that you hadn’t realize where rolling down your face. He cusped your cheeks and kissed your forehead as you buried yourself in his shirt.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson imagine #snl fanfic #fluff

[serfuzzypushover]

Hello! I don’t mean to be a bother, but if you’re ever able to, could you consider making a small tutorial on how to draw the Skelebros? I love them but whenever I draw them it... doesn’t go well haha - Anyway, your art is lovely! I die every time I see it!

I can try! I'm not that great at making tutorials tho but I'll do my best!!

I start with a base circle most of the time since sometimes I skip that part cause of experience I guess and I draw in the basic structure of the skelebros!

Sans is mostly soft edges and circles and Papyrus has more sharp(ish) lines but is still soft looking! Sans's skull stays within the base circle!!

For the eyes, Sans is an easy one. He's all circles! For Papyrus I use the outer part of his eyesockets to make the illusion of an eye. I don't complete the circle except for comedic affect, like in the game sometimes :) Eyebrows aren't that important so sometimes I just give them one. Oh! And I try to not forget that Paps's left eye is smaller than his right one!!

The mouth can be tricky. For Sans I use the Steven Universe route most people seem to be going with lol, but I also add a bit more outline on the corner of his mouth. That's supposed to be his cheekbones!

Papyrus is the one most people have struggles with (me too honestly-) I wouldn't say it's realistic but it's closer to an irl skeleton than Sans's is- I give him two rows of teeth and gaps on the sides of his mouth and he has more visible cheekbones than his brother. I also give him a tooth gap cause I think it's cute-

Here's some expressions to get an idea of how their eyes and mouths work in my style! Papyrus is more expressive than Sans in general and the fact that he has more moving capability with his mouth also shows that!! And whenever I want to show more emotion with Paps I make his eyes turn white when he's scared, sparkle when he's happy and so on.

I don't really have any tips for how to draw their bodies- Whenever I draw them without clothing which definitely doesn't happen often haha 🙂 I just reference a real life skeleton and simplify it!

I really hope this is helpful!! :')

#undertale #ut sans #ut papyrus #drawing tutorial

[cats-artbag]

.:From story to thumbnail (SwapOut):.

@eaudecrow​ @chatxkilluaxnoir​

I’m so sorry I’m getting to these so late, my brain wanted to organize the thoughts regarding to this topic first, but I decided to start typing it out and will try my best to explain my process to you!

------------------------

I had an idea one day which was something like “US!Pap dressing up as UT!Pap” that became “A skelebro impersonating the other”, which resulted in this phone doodle in April 2016 (and then later considered a sans version)

Then I wanted to make it into a story, so I began to think of some sort of a beginning, and an end, which are kinda easier to think of than the middle part. In fact I’m probably still thinking of how to make the middle better haha

I knew from the start that I wanted to do a crossover between Underswap and Undertale, and have a skelebro from one universe impersonate the other. And for trippy, inter-universal travel to happen, I had to think of a reason for Swap to activate his time machine, which is usually a last resort.

So here I figured out and established a setting that I wanted to start off in:

Starts in Genocide route in UnderSwap/Undertale where Frisk/Chara doesn’t return. US!Papyrus lost his US!Sans to Frisk. He killed them but now he's moping around, waiting for them to RESET... but nobody came. (Well... he did say if Frisk truly was their friend, they wouldn't come back.) There's no RESET. US!Sans never comes back home. No one does.

Which left me with this summary for the story:

“US!Papyrus snaps in his timeline and accidentally travels to UT where he ______.”

At this point I didn’t know how I’d end it, but I knew I’d loosely follow a route in Undertale where he’d end up [REDACTED], so it wasn’t like I was working completely from scratch in the first place for this story. I was never good at making things up from scratch, so working off of something that already exists i.e. doing fanart makes it easier. At the same time, I didn’t want to be unoriginal, which is hard haha ;;

Since he was going to the classic UT universe, I knew he’d have to interact with the characters there along the way before he finally reached the end.

So while keeping all that in mind, I finished typing a first draft of the entire story.

Yes, I typed the ENTIRE script for the comic before I started drawing anything.

Which, honestly? ...I think you’re supposed to do??

But when you’re young and just starting off comics, it’s easy to be impatient and to want to just work off the top of your head as you draw your comic...

I literally can’t do that though, as proven by my old comics that I never got around to drawing more than 2 pages of before I didn’t know where I was going. It’s also why I’m terrified of attempting the kinds of tumblr comics that swerve based on asks from people haha! I really admire the people who are able to do so.

I actually typed all these early thoughts here when I posted the first SwapOut page

Anyway after typing the first draft of the script, I finally let myself start the thumbnails. My script was divided into how much I thought would fit in a comic page as I typed, so I drew a thumbnail based on each divided section.

For example :

(these thumbnails are usually posted in the $2 tier on my patreon!)

The way I type my scripts is not standard at all, so if I know how I’ll draw them, I type their actions with their dialogue mashed together x’D But usually I’ll just type the dialogue by itself and keep going, spacing them out for each page. Also it’s good to arrange them so it helps the page flow naturally reading from left to right. (same with drawing as well!)

After that, I kinda use the thumbnail directly as a sketch nowadays (cos i’m a lazybones) and go straight into doing lines (or a more detailed sketch if the thumbnail is too rough/vague)

And that’s pretty much it! It took me a while to choose a page for an example haha but I think this is one of my favourites

As for Chapter 5, all the new pages were actually the scenes with Swap blasting his blaster! They weren’t originally planned in the script but I wanted to add more to the comic rather than him just enter the void and get out haha

I think a page probably takes me two days if I already have the thumbnail ready and I’m working on it straight without breaks, but I’ve been doing more of those which honestly makes my life on this a little easier (less grumpy and more relaxed yes please)

Again sorry this took so long to reply to! I’m also thinking of doing a more detailed tutorial thing for my Patreon but I feel like I already explained most of it here haha ;; Maybe more red flow line examples of my pages? idk

Asks are always welcome! I just suck at replying to them aha ;;

#catschats #swapoutcomicask #script #tutorial #comic #thumbnail #inboxthings

[yeojaa]

                   ❪  VOGUE :  ❫  april 2020  -  click to view high-res!

When Jeon Jungkook first popped up on my radar - as the face of Dior, no less - I didn’t pay much attention to him.  Here, it seemed, was another guy with an unprecedented social media following and a very photogenic face.  You know the type.  

It comes as a surprise, then - a relief, really - to meet Jeon on a bustling Friday night in the heart of New York’s Koreatown.  It’s his idea to have dinner together and I’m not one to turn down barbecue in any of its forms so here we are, tucked into the back corner of a popular all-you-can-eat establishment known for its soju-soaked watermelons.  Jeon, unsurprisingly, looks nearly identical to the photos he posts on Instagram, each one amassing upwards of millions of likes in less than twenty-four hours.  He’s got a leather jacket on -  a staple for his profession, which I’d soon learn wasn’t just pretty boy but actual rockstar - and a bucket hat pulled over his hair.  It’s probably meant to be inconspicuous but I note at least six tables that turn around too many times to be coincidence.

“Is there anything you don’t eat?”  Is one of the first things out of his mouth once we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way.  When I tell him, no, I eat everything and anything, he looks like I’ve just told him his latest single went triple platinum.  

We spend the evening getting grease all over our hands and drinking probably too much beer.  Jeon insists it’s a requirement when enjoying barbecue - “You can’t eat meat without having a drink!” - and I’m not about to say no, though I don’t think I really could.  He’s got a charm that’s both elusive and incredibly apparent but unlike most people in his age bracket, it seems completely effortless.  It’s not hard to see why he’s so successful.

Jeon tells me about his life and growing up in Portland, a place he says “drinks its own Kool-Aid.”  I’m not really sure what that means and ask him to explain, which he does with a laugh that draws the stare of our waitress.  “Portland’s a weird city.  As in, that’s what it’s known for.  Its ‘weirdness’, as if that’s a good thing.  I guess I get the appeal.”  He doesn’t mince words when he speaks, throwing caution to the wind as easily as he drains his third glass of Asahi Black.  “It’s this weird mix of fucked-up addicts who think they’re living in a La Dispute song and “precious” Portland transplants who have no idea how to handle it.”

I ask him whether or not he’d ever go back and he nearly chokes on the piece of lettuce he’s dipped in ssamjang.  He laughs long and hard - I’m reminded of the hyenas in Broadway’s The Lion King - and shakes his head.  “I’m not saying LA’s any better but it knows what it is and what it isn’t.  There’s also a way better food scene there.”  The smile he offers is shameless.  “Better looking girls, too.”  

Although we haven’t known each other very long, I have a feeling he’s leaning heavily into whatever preconceived notion he thinks I have of him.  When I voice my belief, he laughs again, pulling his bucket hat off and tossing his dark hair away from his eyes like an old Hollywood ingenue.  It turns out I’m right.

When I ask him about what has surprised him most about living in LA, he lists things off like he thinks about them regularly, throwing his tattooed fingers up with each count.  “How people will believe anything they read in the media, how many people actively seek out paps, how I really don’t understand how people don’t get trashed at after parties, and how hard it is for anyone to get my name right.”  It’s not surprising how unrepentant he is but it’s still hilarious.  

I ask whether he’s ever considered changing his name or taking a stage name (“What, like Drake?”) and he shoots the idea down immediately.  “My parents gave me this name, just like they gave me everything else.  I’m not about to strip it away so some people can feel better about themselves.”  As someone with a Korean mother and an Italian-American father, I get what he means.  We’ll ignore the fact that I go by my English name.

The longer we spend in the restaurant - far longer than the requisite two hours most other diners seem afforded - the clearer the picture of Jeon gets.  

He loves his family and talks endlessly about his mother, insisting that her kimchi puts this restaurant to shame.  He offers up a few of his biggest influences, citing Canadian duo Majid Jordan, singer-songwriter John Mayer, and trap and bass DJ RL Grime.  He eats with abandon, devouring slabs of pork belly faster than I can blink, though he never hesitates to refill my glass, either.  He tells me how he’s wanted this since he was a kid but that it’s definitely not just sheer, dumb luck that’s gotten him where he is.  He doesn’t explicitly name the apparent sacrifices he’s made but there’s something in his eyes that reads like an obituary.  I don’t press him on it. 

Later on, while I’m editing this piece, Kim Namjoon - his agent and close friend - tells me that Jeon is “the kind of guy who’s effortless.  He’ll try anything and be good at almost everything.  He was made for this.”  

A lot of young celebrities want to be creators but Jeon actually embodies being one.  He gives respect where it’s due, detailing all the long hours he spends writing and in the studio.  “It’s not easy - it takes a ton of work - but that’s what you sign up for.  ‘If you want the career-changing big fish, you gotta be willing to put on the big boy panties and sail out to the deep water.’”  I don’t recognize the quote right away.  Turns out it’s from one of the Fast and Furious movies.

By the time we part ways - he insists on footing the bill, pulling out bills from a Prada bi-fold which he acknowledges with a simple “don’t tell” - I realize nearly five hours have passed.  I get it now.  

It seems that Jeon’s a paradox, equal parts refusal to play by the established Hollywood rules but also someone who wants everything that comes with meeting the expectations.  Someone who wants to have his cake and eat it too.  If anyone can do it, it’s likely him.

cr.  i dare u @ twitter

#edit.zip #ghost.doc

[popatochisssp]

Happy (Belated) Valentine’s Day!

I’m a procrastinator and then also I needed to sleep at one point, RIP anyway

-

Soul Searching

Your partner takes you aside on Valentine’s Day, somewhere nice and private.

You can guess at his intentions, especially when he tells you there’s something he wants to give you, but the chocolates and flowers you’re half-expecting don’t come.

Instead…

Instead, he talks to you, telling more than you already know about monster customs, monster relationships, monster milestones.

He thinks it’s time to do one of those right now, on your cute human love-holiday, a specific show of intimacy and trust like no other.

He touches his phalanges to his chest and his soul—the culmination of his entire being—comes forth.

And he wants you to hold it.

-

Sans (Undertale):

His smile is relaxed and easy, even lit from below by the soft white glow of his soul.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, and his grin widens.

“of course,” he replies without hesitation. “it’s you.”

Sans trusts you, wholeheartedly.

The thought makes you feel soft, and for lack of any kind of answer to it, you reach for his soul.

Your fingers brush against it and you’re immediately overwhelmed with…impressions, feelings, synesthetic thoughts as your mind attempts to translate this thing of pure magic into something you can understand.

A crisp breeze, blowing by your face.

Sliding into a freshly-made bed, rumpling a clean set of sheets for the first time.

The gently spiced sweetness of gingerbread, and the tart burst of blueberries.

A single, resonating chime of a bell, fading out into stillness.

“well?” Sans asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “what do you think?”

It’s said casually but it’s obvious your answer is important.

“I love it,” you tell him. “It’s you.”

-

Papyrus (Undertale):

“I’M! NOT NERVOUS ABOUT THIS, BY THE WAY! IF YOU WERE WONDERING.” Papyrus tells you.

…Which is an obvious lie by the way his leg is bouncing a mile a minute.

But you’re not about to call him out on it.

“It’d be okay, if you were nervous,” you say with diplomacy. “This seems like a pretty personal thing…”

“OH, VERY MUCH SO. BUT,” Papyrus beams at you, just the barest edge of nerves in his smile, “IF THERE’S ANYONE I’D TRUST WITH MY ENTIRE SELF, IT WOULD BE YOU!”

So saying, he nudges his soul forward; closer to you, wordlessly inviting you to touch it.

You’re not nearly rude enough to decline that invitation.

Papyrus is…

Polished marble beneath your fingertips.

Warm, gentle sunbeams on your skin.

The snap of a pretzel and the zing of cold, fresh lemonade, ice cubes clinking against the glass.

Waves, crashing onto the beach, rhythmic and powerful.

“Papyrus,” you breathe. “You’re amazing…”

He blinks at you a moment.

And then he laughs, boisterously, proclaiming, “YES! O-OF COURSE I AM! NYEH-HEH-HEH!” like he knew it all along.

He might not have…but you certainly did!

-

Sky (Underswap Sans):

“…COURSE YOU DON’T HAVE TO, IF YOU FEEL IT’S TOO SOON—I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY!—BUT I WANTED TO OFFER BECAUSE…WELL, IT’S ABOUT THE GESTURE, AND OBVIOUSLY I TRUST YOU, SO—”

“Sans,” you interrupt, laughing a little despite yourself. “You’re…you’re rambling a little…”

Sans’ mouth shuts, a faint tinge of blue coming across his face.

“I…YES, I WAS, WASN’T I? HEHEHEH… I’M SORRY,” he sighs, a touch rueful. “I’M JUST…A LITTLE EXCITED! I KNOW YOU LACK THE CULTURAL CONTEXT, BUT THIS IS…KIND OF A BIG DEAL?”

You look at the upside down heart, bobbing before you in mid-air—Sans’ soul.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“IT’S JUST…I LOVE YOU,” Sans admits. “SO…I WANT YOU TO LIKE IT…DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?”

“It does. ” And the least you can give your skeleton beau is an honest answer, so… “I am ready. I’ll do it.”

Sans’ eye-lights brighten happily as you reach out and cup his soul in your hands.

Just like he warned you, in as much magi-scientific detail as monsterly possible, it’s…weird, an utterly bizarre sensory experience for your brain.

It’s the soft, cloying sweetness of marshmallow, cut with the sharp, icy tingle of mint.

It’s the tickling bubbles of carbonation from a freshly cracked soda can.

It’s the swoop in your stomach at the top of a rollercoaster, just as you start to fall.

It’s birdsong, ambient and melodious.

It’s Sans.

So, “It’s perfect.”

-

Paps (Underswap Papyrus):

Such a bold invitation from your favorite shy skeleton is unexpected, to say the least.

But far from unwelcome.

The pale upside down heart is like a magnet for your fingers, your hands itching to touch the very core of the man you love so much.

But you have to be certain.

“This is…really okay?” you ask. “You’re okay…with this?”

Papyrus, with his ducked skull and fidgeting hands, looks utterly bashful, but the way he meets your eyes is nothing short of resolved.

“yeah,” he says. “i want to share this with you. i want you to know me…like this.”

He reaches for your hands and you let him take them, pulling them to closer to where his soul hovers.

“it’s okay,” he promises.

So you reach, and find…

The trickling sound of a quiet stream, flowing steadily forward.

Lacquered wood, smooth and sturdy.

A hot shower after a long day, filling the room with soothing steam.

Heavy cream, thick and sweet…with the faintest hint of hazelnut.

It’s probably rude, or at the very least extremely cheeky…but you can’t quite stop yourself from bringing Papyrus’ soul up to your lips for a chaste little peck.

He shivers, an enticing cerulean dusting his face.

Your intent must have quite clear, because he chuckles.

“i…i love you, too…”

-

Jasper (Underfell Sans):

“figured it was about that time,” Sans is saying with a shrug. “one of those things ya’ gotta get to sooner or later, y’know?”

His tone is blasé, perfectly casual; verging on cocky, even.

You might’ve bought it if he hadn’t stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to hide their trembling from you.

Real emotion—vulnerability—scared the hell out of Sans and you both knew it.

With his soul laid bare before you, utterly exposed in the truest sense possible, he really couldn’t get any more vulnerable than this.

…but he’s showing you anyway.

He chose to be vulnerable to you, for you, and there aren’t words for how special that makes you feel.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping he understands what you mean and reaching slowly, carefully for everything that makes him…him.

The magic that settles in your palms feels like dry heat, almost insistently warm.

It feels like static, like peeling apart a pair of socks stuck to each other, fresh out of the dryer.

A puff like cinnamon and the tang of a tart apple, sour and sweet and spice all at once.

A distant rumble, like from a far off storm…

Sans’ eye-sockets go wide when you pull his soul closer to you, holding it against your chest.

You know what it probably looks like, like you’re aiming for an even more intimate type of sharing, but really, you just…want him near to you.

Because…

“Sans…you feel like home…”

-

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus):

“I’M SURE YOU’RE INCREDIBLY FLATTERED. TO HAVE WON SO MUCH OF MY REGARD IS NO SMALL FEAT—EVEN FOR AN EXTRAORDINARY HUMAN SUCH AS YOURSELF!”

He’s probably been talking for a solid two minutes now, blustering about how intimidated you must be by such a bold, romantic gesture; how loved you must feel to have such an amazing partner, willing to trust you with his soul; how he understands if you need a moment to process all this overwhelming information.

If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought Papyrus was projecting a bit, stalling for time…

But you do know better: surely, the fact that he can’t seem to meet your eyes right now is just to…keep you from feeling nervous.

Surely.

“…AN HONOR, REALLY—”

“I am,” you say, cutting into his long-winded tirade.

Papyrus’ jaw clicks shut.

“I…WHAT.”

“You’re right,” you clarify. “I’m honored. Really.”

Ah, Papyrus hadn’t prepared a script for that response: you can tell by the way his cheekbones go the palest shade of pink, and by how he all but thrusts his soul at you.

“I! JUST…JUST TAKE IT!” he demands.

And well…you’re not often one to tell Papyrus ‘no.’

You carefully grasp his soul.

Sharp spice like ginger, dripping in rich dark chocolate, riding the line between bitter and sweet.

A razor’s edge beneath a fingertip, safe only for a careful hand.

Fine silk that flows and ghosts against your limbs, the barest whisper of touch.

Crackling, like the tamed fire of a well-stoked hearth.

You let go.

Papyrus looks uncertain, too proud to ask for your thoughts outright but obviously dying to know.

You opt not to leave him in suspense, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down to meet you in a kiss.

Your partner is a fascinating man…

-

Mal (Swapfell Sans):

You startle when Sans grabs your hands in his own, intercepting you.

“Is…Did you change your mind?” you wonder, attempting to pull back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“NO. NO, IT’S FINE,” Sans assures you. “I TRUST YOU, DEAR. I DO.”

But still, he holds your hands, his grip firm.

“……I don’t—”

“JUST…YOU CAN…GO AHEAD. I JUST NEED…THIS……WHILE YOU DO.”

Your beloved Sans—ever emotionally-constipated—probably can’t do any better than that strained and halting explanation.

It’s a good thing that (you think) you understood it.

You can hold his soul.

He wants you to hold his soul.

…But the faint shred of control in such a vulnerable act, holding onto you while you hold onto him, is something he needs to have, too.

If it helps him feel comfortable, you don’t mind in the slightest.

You reach for his soul, with his gloved phalanges still curled around your hands.

Sans allows it.

A subtle yet persistent hum, background, like a nearly-forgotten device in a silent room.

A…strange sort of sweetness, bitter like licorice, or sour like raspberry—impossible to separate from one another, either way.

Pressure, intense and purposeful, bearing steadily downwards.

Crushed ice, stingingly, numbingly cold…

You’re not sure what to make of it…at first.

But then, you remember the last time you’d felt a wisp of this magic.

When you’d been hurt, not badly but enough to make Sans dart over to scold you, even as green light started to pour from his claws—easing your pain, putting you back to rights.

It was the same.

You release your grasp on Sans’ soul, taking no offense in the way it immediately retreats back into his chest.

You turn your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and squeezing tight.

“Thank you…for trusting me.”

And then, you lean in for a kiss.

-

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus):

You can’t believe it sometimes.

How you ever managed to snag yourself such an adorable, goofy sweetheart of a skeleton.

“i-i mean, if you don’t…y’know, ‘cause, i-if it’s weird, for you, uh…i wouldn’t want you to feel…obligated??? that’s…mmmaybe not the right word…”

Poor Papyrus is absolutely babbling by now in a way that could only be more endearing if he didn’t look so nervous.

“i don’t…i dunno, whatever, uh, whatever you want, to do, i just…wanted it to be…out there, if—………”

He goes dead silent when you make your answer to his proposition clear, taking his soul into your hands.

It’s…not what you expected.

The sensation of a thick plume of faux fur against your cheek.

Lukewarm wax cooling, growing tacky on your fingertips.

What rain sounds like when it’s falling outside, while you’re safe and dry indoors.

Dripping, overwhelming sweetness, dense like marmalade and sticky like caramel.

No…not really what you expected…

But somehow, it suits him wonderfully, this odd, clingy duck of a skeleton you’ve chosen as your own.

Papyrus visibly jumps when you raise his soul up to your face and give it a tender little nuzzle.

“I love you,” is all you have to say to make his whole skull glow violet.

It’s true, though—you really do.

-

Slate (Horrortale Sans):

He doesn’t look particularly…happy…about this.

In fact, Sans looks pretty much the opposite, a grimace on his face and his single red eye-light pointedly averted from the sight of his own soul, hovering there between you.

You manage to tear your eyes away from the sight of it, looking at him instead.

“Why?” you ask.

His frown deepens, confusion obvious.

“Why do you want me to do this?” you try again, hopefully clearer. “If it’s… If you don’t want to…”

“……no,” Sans says at length. “it’s not… you should get to……you…deserve to………to know it.”

“But…if you don’t want me to—”

“not… no, that’s not it.”

Sans looks at his soul, his expression visibly pained.

“i just…wish it weren’t…like this…”

Finally, it clicks.

He’s talking about the state of his soul, littered with cracks and fissures, marks of damage from all the horrible trauma he lived through.

He’s…

Sans is ashamed of it.

His own soul.

…

Something…comes over you.

Without hesitation, you reach out and take the manifestation of the skeleton you love into your hands.

It feels like…

Oil dripping over your fingers, dark and slick.

Plush velvet, soft and smooth.

A sharp burst like grapefruit and the warring bitter and sweet of burnt sugar.

Intermittent cricket chirps, on an otherwise still and silent night.

Just like you thought…

You pull Sans’ soul in, bringing it to your lips to pepper it with kisses—one for every little crack and imperfection on its surface—even as Sans shudders and goes that soft gray-blue color you adore so much.

He only manages to hold back the tears (relief? Joy? Disbelief?) until you speak.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

And then, well…you’ve got plenty more kisses to give.

-

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus):

“So! If You’d Like… You Can Just Go Ahead And…”

Don’t mind if you do!

The soft white soul in front of you is utterly enchanting, lovely to look at—and that should be no surprise at all, knowing the man it belongs to.

You lean in closer, admiring it just a moment longer…

“Wait!”

You look up.

Papyrus, his smile gone tight all of a sudden, is reaching for his own soul too…calling it back?

No…

Just…turning it, slightly, a minor little adjustment.

Which is, quite frankly, deeply suspicious.

“Uh…what are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Papyrus assures you. “Don’t You Want To—”

He cuts off abruptly as you lean to the side, testing.

Sure enough, he re-angles his soul for you again, almost on instinct, and when he realizes how badly he’s given himself away, a nervous drop of sweat beads along the side of his skull.

“Papyrus… Why are you trying to ‘dark side of the moon’ your soul?”

“………”

You frown.

“Papyrus.”

“It’s! Not Very Nice, To Look At, Over There,” he confesses, admitting defeat. “Wouldn’t You Rather Just…Look At The Light Side? Like The Moon? The Moon Is Lovely, Nobody Needs To See—”

“I want to see,” you tell him, firmly.

His meddling hands…reluctantly retreat.

Leaving you free to take Papyrus’ soul in your grasp and see what all the fuss was about.

He was right, that the deep scar on the other side of his soul wasn’t particularly pretty—imperfectly healed, a gnarled silver streak across glowing white.

But when you touch him, his innermost self, it’s also…

Soft and impossibly delicate, like holding a single page of scritta paper between your fingers.

Cold steel, stainless and nigh unbreakable, fit to outlast anything.

Malleable marzipan and slippery olive oil, sweet and light and…weird, just a little offbeat.

A steady thrumming, beneath your fingers, like a heart; a strong, steady pulse.

“Thought so,” you say at length, gently trailing your fingers over Papyrus’ soul.

“Thought What?” he asks.

His hands are wringing in his lap, already anxious, so you decide not to make him wait for your answer.

“I love all of you,” you explain. “Not just the ‘pretty’ parts.”

And oh, Papyrus’ eye-sockets sparkle.

-

Ash (Undergloom Sans):

The way Sans looks at his own soul, you’d think he’d never seen it before.

His eye-lights are blown wide in their sockets, that soft shade of gray you’ve come to love so much filled with nothing less than total surprise.

Like he’s not even sure of what he’s seeing.

It doesn’t look like anything out of the ordinary to you.

It’s just…a normal monster soul, an upside down heart shape made of glowing white light.

Maybe…he sees something you don’t?

“Everything okay…?” you ask, and Sans finally blinks.

“huh? oh…yeah…yeah, nothing’s……”

He trails off a moment.

“i just……never seen it this bright before…”

Oh.

Oh.

If you had to make a guess, you’d say that that’s a very, very good thing.

…and it makes you want to hold his soul in your hands even more.

“So…can I…?”

“oh yeah, sure. heheh, go for it—just be gentle.”

As if you would do anything less.

You scoop Sans’ soul up, cradling it in your palms.

It feels like…

Standing in the rain without an umbrella, letting the droplets pelt your skin.

A window pane under your hand, cold, flat, and even.

Soft white noise, unidentifiable yet soothing.

A glass of milk and a fistful of semisweet chocolate chips, plain and simple—uncomplicated.

“This is…beyond cool,” you say, because frankly, it is.

Sans smiles.

You love it when he smiles, the way the expression seems to weaken the dark circles beneath his eye-sockets.

Apparently, it also makes his soul glow just a little bit brighter, and you like that even more.

You think you’ll just have to make Sans smile as much as you possibly can.

-

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus):

“SO…YOU’RE CLEAR, YES? WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?”

You nod.

Papyrus’ concise explanation of the synesthetic experience that was holding a soul had been as well-crafted as one of his lectures, and just as informative.

Perceiving all of him, through all of your senses at once, is an exciting prospect to be sure.

“AND…YOU UNDERSTAND? WHAT IT MEANS?”

“I think so…” Which of course, makes you wonder… “Are you sure you want me to…?”

Papyrus smiles, the corners of his eye-sockets crinkling with gentle amusement…and a hint of self-deprecation.

“IT’S SWEET OF YOU TO ASK,” he says. “BUT…DO YOU REALLY THINK WE’D BE HERE IF I WASN’T ABSOLUTELY SURE?”

………

He has a point.

You remember how terribly flustered Papyrus would get, back at the beginning of your relationship—unable to hold your hand without starting to sweat and stammering over his words like you’d suggested something lewd instead.

He seems perfectly calm now, not even blushing (…you think—the pale, pearly color of his magic makes it nearly impossible to tell).

“Alright… You’re sure.”

Without further ado, your grasp Papyrus’ soul with careful hands.

He’s warm, steaming chai, sugar cubes dissolving within.

Picking an autumn leaf up off the ground, bright yet fragile.

Fingers trailing over smooth, worn leather.

A soft, slow sound, like breathing beside you in bed in the middle of the night.

You gently stroke your thumb over the surface of Papyrus’ soul.

He sighs when you do, eye-sockets falling shut.

Trusting himself wholly in your hands.

“Oh Dear-Heart,” he breathes, his voice going quiet. “I Love You…”

You know.

The feeling is very much mutual.

-

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):

“So…I just…touch it?”

Sans’ big phalanges curl, his wrist flicking twice—“yeah.”

Seems simple enough, you suppose?

Under Sans’ watchful red eye-light, you reach forward…

“wa—it…!”

You jump, your eyes going wide, and the soul darts away from your fingers but you don’t care about that.

Sans’ pained grimace is far more important to you right now, seeing his knuckles pressed against his throat as if to soothe the ache.

“Use your hands!” you exclaim fretfully with concern, grasping at his claws and pulling them out in front of him.

You’d learned sign for a reason, and it wasn’t so Sans could hurt himself trying to make words out loud with a voice that seared and stung him so painfully.

“i know,” he assures you, looking chagrined. “i know, i… sorry. i…panicked, a little.”

More than a little, you almost say, but don’t.

You’re sure it was hard enough already for him to admit, even peripherally, that he’d been…scared.

“Are you okay now? Because…we don’t have to—”

“no,” Sans signs, forcefully. “i want to. i just…i wasn’t ready. i am now. you can… you can go ahead.”

Well… so long as he’s sure.

You reach again, moving slowly this time so Sans can see exactly what you’re doing, where your hands are going…

Wrapping ever so gently around the faintly cracked white soul glowing before you.

It feels like…

Tightening your grip on a handful of hot sand, making it slip away though your fingers even as the heat starts to hurt.

The high, droning cry of cicadas in the dead of summer.

Wool, clean but unprocessed—a thick tangle of softness just shy of raw.

Earthy rye bread and sharp black coffee, warm and fragrant.

Just as slow and steady as you took it in your hands, you pass it back.

Sans takes it, absorbing it back into his chest.

His grin is crooked, almost sheepish.

“so…what’s the damage?”

You sigh, regretfully.

“I’m so sorry…I don’t know how to tell you this, Sans, but…I think you might be baby.”

“…what,” Sans signs, even as that cute hissing sound you’d come to realize was his laughter fills the air, his shoulders bouncing.

“I’m sure this is very upsetting news,” you continue. “It’s a terminal condition, to be just baby, but—mphmh!”

Sans’ hand settles over half of your face, muffling your words.

But he’s still laughing, so you think you’re alright.

-

King (Horrorfell Papyrus):

“YOU REALIZE, OF COURSE, THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS,” Papyrus says.

His needle-sharp phalanges locked tightly around your hands, the stern and imperious look upon his skull as he tells you so…

You’d be hard-pressed not to realize that this was important.

The scarred yet lovely white soul hovering almost hauntingly between you, awaiting your touch, only adds to the gravitas of the moment.

Papyrus releases your hands.

You don’t move.

He stares at you a moment, taking you in.

And then he reaches for you.

The backs of his claws light carefully on your cheek, stroking slow and purposeful.

“…I LOVE YOU, MY JEWEL,” he says, quietly; matter of fact. “THERE ISN’T ANOTHER SOUL ALIVE I’D ALLOW TO DO THIS. YOU KNOW THAT…YES?”

“Yes,” you answer, because you do know it.

As aloof and closed off and even mean as Papyrus once was…once he let you in, you were in, and he never made you doubt that.

You take his soul in your hands.

The sound of wind, gale-force, rushing past your ears.

Pressing down on a healing bruise, testing the fading soreness.

More heat than sweet, peppery cayenne overpowering a faint hint of juicy pomegranate.

Curling your fingers around the stem of a rose, just lightly enough that the thorns don’t prick you.

Papyrus is…a singular sort of skeleton, not the easiest to get close to by any means of the word.

But you’re here, holding all that he is in the palm of your hands, at his own invitation.

You raise his soul and press a kiss to its scuffed and wounded surface, feeding all your intent into the gesture.

I love you, too.

#undertale #sans #papyrus #sans/reader #papyrus/reader #fanfiction #myfic #valentines day #underswap #us!sans #us!papyrus #underfell #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #swapfell/fellswap #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #undergloom #ug!sans #ug!papyrus #horrorfell #hf!sans #hf!papyrus #sorry i'm late #i tried #!!!

[behindtheunderpuppets]

Dale’s Puppet Design (Papyrus)

(Sans and Frisk design here)

PAPYRUS IS FINISHED! I didn't keep track of time but I estimate that I spent at least 55 hours making him. I actually started making him before Frisk but ended up finishing Frisk first since I didn't know how the frick I was going to attach Pap's arms or make Papyrus' jaw movable (that's right, he can talk, suckas!) His design is completely different from the other puppets and at first I thought it would be easier cause I wouldn't have to sew clothes. BOY, was I wrong.

Coming in at a whopping 16½"/42cm, Puppet!Papyrus (or"Pappet") towers above Sans (11"/28cm) and Frisk (10"/26cm). If you've been following for a while, you may remember my post lamenting how I made the frame way too frikkin big and had to start completely over. Apparently I still made him too big but at least he's not the size of a small human child anymore. When I remade the "skeleton" (hah hAHA!) I forewent wiring the shoulder pads.

It took a long time for me to figure out how to make Papyrus' jaw move. Eventually I came up with a design incorporating a spring in the form of a hair tie. To shape the head, I found a tutorial on drawing Papyrus and drew it myself (UGHH, DRAWING), then photocopied a bunch of sizes and held them up to the frame to make sure the proportions were right. Then I took a very thick gauge of aluminum wire and shaped it into the jaw, matching the size on the drawing. I used a slightly smaller gauge wire to form a hinge around the jaw, using the same wires to make a rough outline of the head. Inside the head, the jaw wire bends upwards into a loop, which is attached to a rubber hair tie. I hope to hell that it doesn't break, because it will be very, very hard to fix. Another wire prevents the jaw from moving too far forward. I filled out the rest of the framework with thin, flexible wires.

To shape the torso and pelvis, I covered the wire framework with cosplay foam, only putting down one thin layer at a time to ensure it dries all the way (I LEARNED MY LESSON FROM LAST TIME). For his boots, I used the same technique as with Frisk and Sans where I first made the shape I wanted and covered it with a thin layer of foam. Following the theme of me overestimating the size of Papyrus, the first boot attempt was way too friggin big and I had to start over.

I made Papyrus' shoulder pads and gloves out of foam. At this point, I gave him a face cause it was getting creepy.

And then I made it even creepier by using my patented Puppet Suspension System™ to hold Papyrus while drying. The counterweight in the bag is a jar of Fusilli beans, which I pulled at random from the family pantry.

Once the foam was dry, I put on a few layers of acrylic paint to match his sprite. Before I glued on the gloves, I rolled up fabric around the wires of his arms (same as torso and legs). The outermost layer is stolen from the bottom of a black velvet dress. I used a different matte spray finish this time (pictured right), because it claimed to "eliminate sheen." You can still see some shine but I think it's just unavoidable. I want the puppets to be as unshiny as possible so that they don't have a glare in videos. The brown boot drying on the stick in the background is because I tried putting the new finish on Frisk's boot and ended up with a really dull, foggy look that I had to paint over. It's still lighter than the other one but whatever, it's good enough. It seems like 2 layers is the limit for matte finish.

Next, I made Papyrus several sets of swappable teeth out of poster board, covered with foam and painted. Initially, I used wood and put spaces between the teeth, which looked horrifying, as you can see below.

Papyrus' boots are held on by stuffing leftover black t-shirt material around the wire of his feet. For his signature red scarf, I knew I wanted the floppiest, least stiff fabric possible to make it look realistic on a puppet. I have plans for a video series which includes Frisk wearing two of Papyrus' scarves (it will make sense in context) so I needed it to be thin, compressible material. The nearby Jo-Ann's (craft/fabric store) just closed so I ended up getting a really soft red shirt from Ross. It took a while but I finally arranged it and cut it into the right shape, using hidden sewing pins to secure the fabric.

And VOILA! A completed Pap!

As always, I am more than happy to talk crafts and offer what advice I can to anyone! These are my own designs (because I'm too lazy to follow instructions) and you are very welcome to use them! Please let me know if I can explain anything better, and remember to follow @underpuppets for puppet shenanigans.

EDIT: I totally forgot to mention how I covered his skull. I used a white plasti-dip spray, which kept coming out bubbly so I worked out a system of spraying it first into a cup and then painting it on the foam with a brush. I did it this way so that I can use double sided tape to hold on different eyes instead of using magnets, which I didn't have room to add and didn't work very well with the Frisk puppet. I went back and covered Puppet!Sans' head with plasti-dip as well, which makes it way more durable and less likely to get scratched or marked up. Papyrus' torso is still really soft and I live in fear of putting him down on something sharp or dropping him or something. Thankfully, cosplay foam is pretty easy to repair, so if that happens I'll be able to fix it pretty easily. I also glued on the arms in a way that will allow me to somewhat easily replace those wires if they break from bending too much.

#undertale #Papyrus #puppet #puppets #crafting #undertale puppets #arts and crafts #wire #crafting wire #cosplay foam #trial and error

[lihikainanea]

Could we please have some angst?? Maybe Bill was spotted out with a beautiful actress or his ex, but Tiger wasn’t aware of that meeting which breaks her heart because she thinks that their thing is probably going to end now that Bill is interested in going out someone else.

oh fuck, my poor wee heart.

I’ll bet it kind of happens when he’s away too, right?

Follow me down this angsty rabbit hole. Let’s go with the ex theory. The Case of The Ex (where my early 2000s kids at? Anyone?). Maybe it’s one of those terrible ex’s too. I low key kind of love Alexis Knapp--girl’s got some fucking edge to her, something just a little insane--but apparently she’s the one he was talking about when he referenced some seriously fucked up, dangerous relationship in a few interviews. Which isn’t cool--but let’s go with something like that. Maybe it was when Bill was in his early 20′s, there’s still a lot you learn about yourself in that time and you get into bad relationships. Damaging relationships. You’re still figuring yourself out, still figuring out this whole adulthood thing, and you’re bound to make mistakes. I don't think anyone can be faulted for being a shitty person on some level in their early 20s, and for some reason I think Bill might have been a big time shitty dude.

But look--his ex is some big time actress. Beautiful, by all accounts. Maybe their relationship was pretty hyped by the press too--the paps would legitimately follow them, mostly for her, whether or not they were called. And tiger’s at home, missing her big dude, catching up on trashy reality TV and that’s when she starts to see it--pictures. A picture of him, hugging her. Laughing. A lot of pictures.

And what tiger doesn’t know is that Bill was out to dinner that night, a cast dinner, and his ex happened to be at the restaurant. What tiger doesn’t know is Bill’s blood ran cold when he saw her, he tried to avoid her, did anything he could to just leave before she saw him--but it didn’t work. What tiger doesn’t know is that Bill cringed, gritted his teeth, tried to step away from the hug but the girl flung herself at him with too much enthusiasm. Tiger didn’t see his grimace, didn’t see that the hug lasted barely a nano second before he pulled away and stepped back from her. Tiger didn’t see his eyes noticing the paps in the bushes, tiger didn’t see that that’s what made him force a smile. Tiger didn’t see that the entire interaction lasted about 4 seconds.

And tiger didn’t hear the conversation, didn’t hear the girl tell Bill that they should reconnect, go for dinner while he’s in town.

Most importantly, tiger didn’t hear Bill’s venomous response.

“No,” he deadpanned, “And get fucked.”

Tiger didn’t see him walk away and not even spare the girl a glance.

Tiger only saw the pictures.

And listen, I talk a lot about tiger wallowing in her own emotions, becoming a martyr. But let’s talk about tiger’s fire here. Because she’s still her, she’s still every bit the terrifying ball of fury that Bill fell in love with, and the one thing that will get tiger’s blood boiling every fucking time is competition. And women don’t compete with women--that’s lame. But tiger only ever HEARD of this girl from Bill, knew how she hurt him, knew the kind of hell he fought through, and this girl is now thousands of miles away putting her hands on what is tiger’s.

Tiger wants to kill them both. And she doesn’t even bother taking a few calming breaths before she calls him--is it a FaceTime? Oh, it’s a FaceTime. She wants to see his face while she destroys him.

And he answers--happy and cherubic, a big smile on his face.

“Hi kid,” he says cheerfully.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she seethes.

Bill is confused.

“You tall fucking fuck,” she says, “Fuck you, you seriously think that--”

“Whoa, kid,” he grimaces, “Easy on the fucks.”

“Easy?” she spits, “Oh, okay. Let’s talk easy.”

And I’ll bet she just goes off. And somewhere in there, Bill finally figures out what’s going on. Because in between all the fucks, she relays the story as she knows it--just you know, it’s a much more elaborate version than what actually happened. And Bill? Ohhh, tiger’s anger is revving him up. But it’s revving up every single dominant trait in him, and all he’s trying to do is get to a place quiet enough where he can snap back--put her in her place the way she’s practically begging for it, and not be heard. He finally ducks away somewhere isolated.

“Enough,” he interrupts her, “You really think this is the way it’s gonna go, kid?”

“You’re the one who--”

“Listen to me,” he hisses, “Tiger, there is going to be a boarding pass in your email in the next hour. If you want to come at me like this, then you can fucking do it to my face.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, “I’m not fucking--”

“You’re getting on the plane, tiger,” he snaps.

“Fucking make me.”

“Fucking try me, kid,” he growls.

She hangs up. The boarding pass comes in 10 minutes later, without a note. And later on that night, before bed, Bill calls her again--because he won’t ever let her go to bed without calling her, but tiger is MUCH more petty and she lets it go to voicemail.

“If you’re not in my hotel room tomorrow night, you’re in big, big trouble kid,” his velvety smooth voice threatens, “Goodnight, I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And she almost doesn't do it. She almost stays home--but her only motivation is that she wants to look at him, wants to stand there in front of him and rip him apart for this.

And Bill’s not stupid either--he recognizes her anger, but he also recognizes its true form. Insecurity. Vulnerability. (And it’s not ever an excuse to yell, but tiger isn’t yelling at HIM. She’s also not calling him names, because that’s never okay.)

And ohhhh boy, when tiger gets to the hotel room the next day, Bill is just waiting for her. Already nursing his third glass of scotch, tiger opens the door and unceremoniously throws her bag to the floor. Whips her jacket off, slams it on the bed.

“You want to talk, bud?” she snaps, “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh no no, kid,” Bill says with mock amusement, “You seemed to have so much to say to me yesterday, so you’ll be doing the talking.”

But look, tiger is just...tiger is a little less bold when she’s there in front of him--just like Bill knew she would be. She’s a little less courageous, like he knew she would be. And the power dynamic is shifting again, back to its natural state when it comes to these two, and both can feel it. Bill stands then, draws up to his full height. He walks slowly towards her, glaring her down the whole time, and suddenly tiger is losing her nerve in a big way. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of her, glowering down at her, their chests touching.

“Talk,” he demands. Tiger swallows hard, tries to grasp on to any ounce of anger that is rapidly leaving her body.

“She--”

“Who?” Bill snaps. Tiger makes a frustrated noise.

“You know who,” she says, shoving at his chest and turning away--but he grabs her elbow, whips her back around to face him.

“Who, tiger?” he asks harshly.

“Her,” she barks out, “Your ex.”

“What about her?” he says.

“The two of you,” tiger tries to keep her tone harsh, accusatory, angry--but it’s not working.

“What about it?”

“Fucking having dinner like old times, eh?” she snaps and shoves him away, but Bill’s not having it. He regains his footing and slams her back into the wall, grabbing her face in his hand.

“What did you see?” he asks. Tiger tries to shake out of his grip but it’s too tight.

“The two of you,” she snarls, “At dinner, having a great time.”

Bill jams his knee between hers, pinning her.

“What did you see?” he demands again.

“You and her,” she says, “In love like you used to be, you fucking--”

“Tiger,” he snaps, “I don’t give a shit what you think happened. What did you see?”

He’s trying to get a point across. Trying to make her realize that her mind filled in a million blanks for her, and blew this entire thing way out of proportion.

“Photos,” she says, and her answer this time is much gentler, “Photos of you and her. You were laughing, and you hugged her.”

He steps away from her then, shoves down on her shoulders to put her on her knees.

“No,” she fights back, swats him away. But he overpowers her, hooks a foot behind hers so she falls in a heap, and he grabs her face in his hands. He looks angry, he looks like a man on fire, and his grip is harsh.

“Four seconds,” he growls, “That entire interaction lasted four seconds. I wasn’t at dinner with her, I was at dinner with the cast and she happened to be at the same restaurant.”

Tiger swallows hard, but he’s not letting up. She reaches a hand up to try and touch him in some way--his chest, his arm, but he smacks it away and grabs her face again.

“Look at me,” he demands, “I didn’t hug her. She saw the paparazzi and went for it--I tried to step back, step out of the way, but she lunged. I laughed to not cause more of a scene, tiger.”

His eyes are unblinking, intense as they bore into hers.

“And when she asked to see me again, you know what I told her? I told her to get fucked, tiger. I don’t ever want to see her again,” he says.

Tiger stays silent, tries to hold his gaze.

“Four seconds,” he repeats.

He lets her go then, releases his grip on her face and stands back up. He goes to pour another scotch, but when tiger puts a foot on the floor to stand he snaps his fingers at her.

“No no, you can go ahead and stay like that for awhile,” he says. But tiger can’t.

“Yellow,” she mumbles, and Bill turns to her immediately. He softens, walking over to help her stand and she keeps her hands on his arms so he stays close.

“Is that really what happened?” she asks lowly, “That’s all?”

“That’s all, kid,” he says.

“I thought that...” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “I thought that you maybe started to want...something else. Someone else.”

“I don’t,” he says softly.

“I thought that maybe we were...that this was done.”

“It’s not.”

“I thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore,” she says, and it breaks his heart. He ducks his head, bending to catch her gaze. 

“I do,” he says, stroking his thumb across her cheek.

“And god she’s such an asshole,” tiger says, and Bill chuckles at that.

“She is,” he agrees, but then he takes her face gently in his hands again and gives her a sweet kiss.

“You, kid,” he says simply. 

Tiger sighs, nodding as she pulls him in for another kiss.

#angst #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

[tyranttortoise]

TT, how would you rank skelebros in "who's the best kisser"? Starting from the absolute mind-blowing?

*I’m honestly surprised I’ve never done this.

Mutt

Red

Stretch

Edge

Blueberry

Axe 

Sans

Papyrus

Blackberry

Crooks

Okay, hear me out while I break these down under the cut and show that I’m only slightly biased.

Let’s face it.  You want Crooks to be an amazing kiss, but he’s never done it before.  He’s excited; he doesn’t how it’s supposed to go since he doesn’t have lips, but he knows it involves mashing your mouths together.  His teeth are jagged, some of them sharp.  He becomes over-enthusiastic and grabs you, quite literally sweeping you off your feet.  Your heart’s pounding in anticipation, but his grip… It’s too tight.  You inhale in a wheeze just as he mashes his mouth against yours.  His teeth unintentionally bite into your lips, and you make a sound of discontent, pressing your hands against his chest.  One of the broken edges feels like it’s drawn blood.  “Too rough,” you manage, pushing against him harder.  For a moment, he doesn’t respond; no, instead, he pushes closer, and you feel the electric tingle of his tongue as it slides across your bottom lip, tasting your blood.  

“Papyrus!”

Finally, he seems to snap back to his senses, and his hold relaxes enough that your feet touch the ground again.  He doesn’t realize what he did that you didn’t like, so you have to instruct him on being gentle and not over-eager.  The next kiss is better, but he needs practice.  

Speaking of over-eager, that’s why Blackberry is only one slot above Crooks.  Blackberry also doesn’t know what he’s doing, and that combined with his fangs, isn’t a pleasurable experience.  He’s shaking when he goes in for the kiss, a combination of excitement and nerves that’s virtually unheard of for someone with as much confidence as the tiny tyrant.  To cover this up, he tries to make his movements deliberate instead of unsure, but it really just comes across as rough.  His teeth mash against your lips, and his grip on your shoulders is bruising (he doesn’t even notice he’s holding onto you, but you’ve become an anchor for his nerves).  He’s grinding his teeth into your lips a little, and it’s painful, but when you open your mouth to try to tell him, his tongue abruptly pushes past.  The electric charge of his magic makes the kiss feel better, but his exploration is too fast and too clumsy.  It’s only when you gag and tap your palms against his chest that he finally breaks the kiss, his face flushed with a bright blush.  

“HOW WAS THAT?  THE BEST KISS OF YOUR LIFE, CORRECT?  WHAT ELSE DID YOU EXPECT FROM THE MALEVOLENT SANS!”

…. Yeah, teaching him without hurting him is a delicate process, but don’t worry.  Once his nerves calm and he slows down, he’s a much better kisser.

That brings us to Papyrus.  He’s similar to Crooks in the way that he doesn’t know how kissing works without lips, but WOWIE, he’s willing to try.  Paps has the advantage of teeth that won’t hurt you, but let’s face it.  His kiss is chaste, and involves just holding his teeth against your lips for a moment, then pulling back with a bright pink blush and telling you that was nice.  It’s a sweet kiss!  There’s nothing bad about it.  But, if you want something more, you just have to teach him.  Watch some rom-coms, or just sit him down on his racecar bed and explain how tongues work in kisses.  This is one where you probably need to take charge and show him what you like.  

……. Have I written this before?  I can’t remember.  If I haven’t, I need to.  

Sans is just above his brother because he knows how, but his kisses are gentle and lingering, the kind that always leave your lips tingling and you wanting more.  He has much more control than most of the skeletons, and he holds onto it through the first several kisses.  There’s no tongue, but you could almost swear that you feel some sort of magic almost mimic lips.  It feels nice, but if you’re wanting a proper make-out session, you’re going to have to be the one to press things further.  

You climb onto his lap, and his fingers ghost your hips.  He chuckles, but the joke he was about to make dies in his throat as you kiss him.  You feel his fingers flex against your hips, his touch more firm, and your tongue traces his teeth.  His body feels more tense than usual, his careful control beginning to slip, and when your hand cradles the back of his neck, fingering the spinous process of a vertebrae, his teeth part as he sucks in a sharp breath.  

You take the initiative and slide your tongue between those teeth to meet the magical tongue he’s already manifested.  He makes a sound in the back of his throat, and your tongue traces the length of his.  

In the next moment, he’s flipped positions on the couch so you’re lying down, and he’s on top of you.  

So, Sans has the potential for a phenomenal kiss, but I think it would take a few kisses – or a determined partner on the first one – to get him to really go HAM.  

Axe is just a step above Sans because he’s someone that has much less control.  He goes for it, he isn’t afraid to bust out the swoon-inducing moves (such as dipping you back ;D ), and when the moods strikes, he can really bring the passion.  His only downfall is that his kiss can be a little sloppy, but once he slows down for a breath, you find that you just can’t get enough.  

Yeah, Blueberry’s pretty high on the list, and that’s because he’s such a motivated datemate.  He’s one of the most passionate and eager of the skeles, but he’s studied for this moment.  He’s ready.  

He’s also someone that can easily read the way you respond.  He knows when you likes something – and he also wants you to tell him how you like to be kissed.  Is there enough tongue?  Too much teeth?  Well, there’s not much he can do about that one, but he’ll certainly try!  He’s been daydreaming about this, studying the way humans kiss, and he can’t wait to knock your socks off.  

Just make sure you pick them up afterward!

Edge is surprisingly high on the list, but you know that skeleman is just waiting to sweep you in a passionate embrace.  He’s the dominant one in the kiss, definitely, and you’re going to find your back pressed into a wall, his body trapping yours.  It’s easy to lose yourself in the kiss.  His fangs don’t hurt; he has careful control, though you can definitely expect to see his teeth grazing your neck as soon as you breathlessly break the kiss.  

His draw-back is that although he’s confident and telling himself that YES, HE’S THE BEST KISSER and you CAN’T GET ENOUGH, he’s still new to it and isn’t overcompensates with more tongue than you’d like.  It wrestles with yours, sweeping across your mouth, and he doesn’t take your cue right away to ease up.  But once he sees that he’s doing a decent job, and you like it, he’ll be less in his head and more apt to ease up.  

Stretch is way up there because c’mon, you guys have read the way he kisses.  I’m going to copy/paste it and then fan myself over this one:

This time, he responds in earnest, his other hand molding to the curve of your hip, and his long legs unfolding so he can draw you onto his lap. Your knees spread on either side of his hips, and the arm around his neck grips the back of it, the spinous processes of his cervical spine protruding between your fingers.

His teeth part, and you take the initiative and slip your tongue between them to meet his magical one. It feels different from Red’s; it’s longer and thinner, not as wet, and the magic doesn’t seem to be quite as concentrated. It doesn’t make your mouth feel numb. You massage your tongue against his, and he proves that his tongue is rather dexterous by curling the tip around yours. A tiny, contented sigh escapes you, and you rake your fingernails against the protruding bone of his neck, causing him to groan and pull your body tighter against his.

He kisses you breathless, taking his time languidly– yet thoroughly – exploring your mouth, while the fingers of one of his hands tangles within your hair. Neither of you are in a rush to pull away, but you finally break the kiss to properly swallow and catch your breath. Despite the fact that he doesn’t have lungs, Stretch’s ribcage is expanding rather rapidly, too.

You don’t know what to say, so you just say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Wow.”

I think that speaks for itself.  ;D

And you also know I’ve written enough Red kisses to know why he’s got the next spot.  I’m going to link you guys to this imagine where you make-out with Red at a party because it perfectly encompasses what it’s like to kiss Red.  

I’m also going to leave this here:

This time, there aren’t any physical fireworks going off in the distance, but there may as well be. You find yourself clinging to him, your fingers curling around the backs of his ribs and your palms skimming the cracks within them.

There’s a familiar tingle as his magical tongue traces the line of your lips, urging them to part. As soon as you comply, you feel a rumble build in his chest. In the next moment, you’re falling backward, onto the couch –

–but then you land on something much softer, your back bouncing upon impact. The music is completely gone. You break the kiss just long enough to check your surroundings and find that you’re back in the hotel room. Red’s clothes are in his fist; he was mindful enough to grab them from the couch mid-teleportation. He demands your attention again by resuming the kiss, his tongue automatically invading your mouth. It feels electric, tingling against your tongue with the faint taste of whiskey.

Hot damn, am I right?

So how does Mutt top that?  His kiss is basically Stretch and Red’s rolled into one.  He can bring the passion, the fangs, the electricity of his magic, but he also has that long, dexterous tongue and all the patience in the world. He knows how to make your toes curl, how to get you grasping at his jacket, your heart pounding in your chest.  He alternates between languid, thorough exploration and a passionate heat that has his phalanges pulling your head back to deepen the kiss.  He leaves you feeling light-headed, holding onto him as if he’s your anchor to reality, and when he finally pulls back, he’s smirking.  

“mmm, not bad.”

That doesn’t even begin to describe it, Mutt.

#undertale imagine #undertale headcanon #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell #horrortale #kiss list #this was really fun to write

[tthael]

Are you still taking asks? Disregard if not, but I'm still thinking about the TTHAEL universe now and then, and I know Kay has plenty of justified reasons for not being too jazzed about Richie, but I'm wondering if, over the course of Bev's life with R and K as some of her best friends, they ever end up having any more positive interactions?

My state of taking asks is nebulous because it takes me a while to get around to them but I do usually plan to answer.

So the thing about Kay is that she’s angry with Richie’s stage persona and his early career. And some people--like Eddie--make a clear division between the things that Richie says on stage and the things he actually thinks, and are relieved by him turning over a new leaf after Derry and writing his own stuff and the still-irreverent but overtly gay and left-leaning comedy he now produces. And some people--like Kay--maintain that Richie is still responsible for the things he said, even when he wasn’t writing them, because he put them out into the world and he had a significant fan following of people (mostly men) who treat women very badly. The division between Kay’s followers and Richie’s early followers is pretty clear, it’s a straight line down the middle.

And Kay loves Bev with all her heart, and agrees that Ben Hanscom is certainly an improvement on Tom Rogan, but Kay always second-guesses Bev’s relationships around men. She’s always keeping an eye out. Bev’s in charge of Bev, but if Kay witnessed behavior that worried her she would start making a list and just... preparing herself, the way that she did when Bev was married to Tom. So the fact that Bev went off to Derry and came back with five previously-unheard-of man friends, several of whom are extremely famous, one of whom is Richie goddamn Tozier? Kay is completely flummoxed. And out of the lot of them, Richie Tozier is definitely the worst, as far as Kay’s concerned.

So Richie is himself when they’re like, sitting around Ben’s firepit in Nebraska, and he isn’t overtly an asshole (or at least, not any more than he naturally is). He’s obnoxious, and he’s a man, but he doesn’t seem to be deliberately misogynistic the way he  plays on stage. And Kay doesn’t know what’s going on with him and the little guy (the fact that Eddie is exactly her height doesn’t stop him from being the little guy) until Richie Tozier actually like puts an arm around him and pulls him tight to his side, and Kay understands how toxic masculinity is a prison that doesn’t allow men to touch each other except in acts of violence, but she’s pretty surprised that Richie Tozier would pull a move like that. And Eddie kind of snarks at him a little but also leans his head back against Richie’s shoulder because he’s had too much to drink and he’s totally nodding off, and Kay just... files that away. (She works it out by the time she sees them dancing together at Ben & Bev’s wedding.)

So Kay and Richie are probably two of the most important people in Bev’s life (Kay being the exceptional non-Loser) and frequently they’re at events that are important to Bev. They’re in closer proximity than Kay would prefer, but Kay can be civil. For Bev. And Richie never says anything to Kay that really sets her off, but he also never apologizes.

(It never occurs to Richie that Kay might want an apology. He never said anything offensive to her specifically, and he’s not going to ask her for a benediction from all of womankind or anything.)

But I picture maybe one day there’s some kind of event happening in a gallery, and Bev’s there, and Kay’s there, and inexplicably Richie’s there but Eddie’s not so he’s sulking a little, and they’re both like in the back of the room drinking and pointedly not talking, and Kay is noticing how Bev’s actually mingling with people this time. When Rogan&Marsh did their public appearances, their congratulatory events, Tom always did the talking, and if Bev dared to speak to anyone it was because she was on his arm and he could listen to what she said. If Bev was tired and perched at the bar and drinking screwdrivers because she was just worn out, she didn’t talk much. But now Bev’s heading her own label and she’s out there working the room and accepting the congratulations that she’s due for her work, and Kay--who is two drinks in and feeling relaxed enough to initiate conversation with Richie goddamn Tozier--asks something about the security at the event.

And Richie snorts and tells her about the time after he and Bev got papped, when they were all convinced that Tom Rogan was out standing in the pool at his apartment complex. Kay casts an eye over the big glass windows (lots of natural light!) of the gallery but it’s all pretty opaque darkness out there. She doesn’t touch her scar. She doesn’t wear concealer over it either.

“She told me that night that she wanted to kill him,” Richie says quietly. He’s also been drinking a little but he probably wouldn’t say that to anyone other than Kay. Not Ben, because it would upset Ben. Maybe Eddie, but talking about Bev like that to Eddie feels a little bit like going around Bev’s back. Kay’s different, though. Kay understands.

“Out in your pool?” Kay thinks about the logistics. It would have been very easy.

“No,” Richie says. “We were, like, eating nachos and drinking, that’s what they papped us doing, and she was like, ‘I want to kill him.’“

Kay remembers those photos--Beverly Marsh’s New Funnyman?--and how at ease Bev had looked, despite being tucked into the corner. The way they shoved the dish of nachos back and forth at each other. Bev didn’t look the way she did with Tom, she looked the way she did with Kay, when she forgot there was anything to hide. She can’t imagine Bev saying anything like that to her with that look on her face. Bev holds things back, now that Tom’s hurt both of them.

“Really,” she says, almost impressed.

“Yeah, and then she walked it back, but.” Richie Tozier shrugs. “I mean, if the opportunity presented itself, I’d ask her first, but.”

There’s a sealed court case in Derry, Maine, with Richie Tozier’s name on it. Kay doesn’t know the details, but it’s like a little bit of the night comes in to their corner, casting shadows over them while Bev, out on the floor, just blazes with light.

“Well, how kind of you to ask her first,” Kay says airily, but actually she prefers that to him taking things into his own hands. Better Richie than Ben--Bev doesn’t want to do without Ben, for all that she could--but he’s still the one that draws the most of Kay’s suspicion, seconded only by the horror writer Bev’s still tense and awkward around.

Richie smiles in response to the joke and replies, just as airily, in a voice tending toward an English accent, “I am but a simple old-fashioned man. I need her blessing before I go out and commit vigilante justice.” In his own voice he says, “Also Eddie would fucking kill me, so we’d have to be really good at cleaning our tracks.”

Kay snorts. “If you two go out and kill him without inviting me along I’ll never forgive you,” she says. It’s not even that she wants to kill Tom Rogan, it’s that she’s so angry about what he did to her and Bev that she wants him to hang himself with his own rope. She wants to take what he did and throw it back in his face--this is not /her/ fault, it’s his, and she wants him to never be able to do anything without what he did haunting him.

That’s not always the world they live in, but it’s the one Kay McCall is trying to make.

Richie Tozier just lifts his eyebrows, considering. “Fair,” he seems to decide. He looks at her glass, which is down to just ice. “You want another--?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you drinking?”

“I don’t know, it was friggin’ disgusting.”

He laughs. “What do you want to be drinking?”

“Just get me a screwdriver,” she says. “Me and Bev’ll match.”

“Got it,” he says, and goes to get her a drink.

#long post #my fic #tthael #tthabl #things that happen after beverly leaves #domestic violence #violence against women